


Thirsty

by magicknickers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Community: darkdracoharry, Dark, Drabble, Kidnapping, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicknickers/pseuds/magicknickers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is always so thirsty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirsty

**Author's Note:**

> Written a while back for the DarkDracoHarry "My Bloody Valentine" Commentfest. Should've posted this ages ago, but. I guess I forgot to. Also, this is my first venture into the land of Drarry! Yay! Now I think I'll go finish (start) all of those pesky fest entries that I signed up for.
> 
> Warnings for implied child abuse and kidnapping. Also, angst.

“Let me go,” Harry whispers, his voice barely-there and raspy. He is so thirsty—so,  _so_ thirsty and he wants to go home  _(Ginny Ginny Ginny)_ so badly that it physically hurts.

This time, Malfoy ignores him, a change from his usual  _(I can't Potter I can't oh father would kill me if I did)_ reaction. Harry watches those pale, perfect fingers as they set a little dish of water in front of him, like he used to set milk out for the neighborhood cats.

There is a moment where Harry thinks he may be able to take Malfoy's wand—he's bending down, crouching to set the dish on the floor, his  _(left)_ hand wrapped loosely around the hawthorn wand—but he does not act quickly enough, and the moment passes. He wonders how his reflexes have grown this weak.

Malfoy gives him a fleeting, unreadable look before turning around and stalking out of the  _(cell cage chains metal)_  room.  
It is a long time before Harry looks away from the closed door.  
*  
He wakes up to the sounds of shouting from upstairs. Sitting up as much as he can—his wrists are chained to the wall and he lost all feeling in his legs a long time ago—Harry reaches for the little dish from earlier. What can hardly be called a “sip” is left in the dish, and he drinks it up greedily, throat dry _(let me out let me out let me out he shrieks)_  and mouth sticky from sleep.

If anything, that bit of water makes him even thirstier, and he stares at the dish with something akin to desperation.

Harry is  _(always)_  so thirsty.

The shouting stops as he is sitting there, tongue like a piece of swollen cotton in his dry, sticky mouth, and he glances upwards, as if he could stare a hole right through ceiling. 

Everything around him is fuzzy and strange, and he yearns for his  _(wand)_  glasses.

There is a sudden shuffling from outside the door, and Harry watches, unmoving, as Malfoy crashes through it.

Harry can see the bloom of a purple-gray  _(flower)_  bruise already beginning to form on cheek, marring that pale  _(perfect)_  cheek.

"Thirsty," Harry whispers  _"Thirsty."_

“ _Aguamenti,”_  Malfoy murmurs, wand pointed at the dish in Harry's hands.

Harry watches, still unmoving, as water  _(clear and perfect)_  pours into the little dish.

“Thank you,” he says.

Malfoy doesn't say anything in response before leaving.

Harry thinks, maybe, that he wanted to.

 


End file.
